


Lonely Alone

by sixappleseeds



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Magic, Shapeshifting, Veterinary Clinic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-04-23 00:03:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19139542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixappleseeds/pseuds/sixappleseeds
Summary: Sid's a vet, Geno's a bear, and Dixi is a very good kitty





	Lonely Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vestigialstell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vestigialstell/gifts).



> Vestigialstell! You asked for a fairy tale/supernatural AU with fluff and a good ending, and this popped into my head. I hope you like it!
> 
> All the cookies to Smudgy for the inimitable beta'ing, and to Lux and Sevenfists who cheered me on when I wasn't sure I could finish this <3
> 
> Title is from the song "Laurel Wreath," by Bear's Den
> 
> Content note: This is a veterinary AU, and as such contains references to animals (including Dixi) needing medical attention. All of the animals mentioned receive the help they need, and all of the medical procedures are referenced, not described. I'm not a vet, I just googled things.

“Hey, we got an appointment request from Sewickley Heights, do we go that far north?”

Sid glanced at his vet tech, distracted by Miss Fluffy Marshmallow Norvich’s lab results. The poor cat was diabetic after all, and he’d need to work out a diet plan with Mrs. Norvich, Miss Fluffy’s caretaker. First he’d ask Kris if they had any extra bags of diabetic kibble to give her. That stuff was expensive. “What?” Sid said, blinking at Jake.

Jake was peering at his phone, Google Maps open on the screen. “Eighteen point four miles,” he muttered. “Huh. Guess we do go that far.”

“Labradoodle or Goldendoodle?” Sid set down his tablet. Sewickley and its environs tended to have high concentrations of designer breeds. Some of them were even well behaved.

“It’s a cat, actually.” Jake pointed to the appointment request on the office computer. “Twelve-year-old tabby, spayed, not eating all the sudden. Owner’s unable to drive,” he added.

Hence the request to Three Rivers Animal Hospital, which had a mobile unit designed precisely for the sort of patients who couldn’t come into their South Side location. Sid imagined a fabulously wealthy tiny old person with big, beautifully appointed house, tut-tutting over a pedigreed cat. He sighed. “Didn’t we have that cancellation tomorrow?”

Jake tabbed over to the calendar app. “Yup. Looks like Adelaide Brown rescheduled Butterfingers’ wellness checkup for next week.”

“Alright, tell Andi to book it. Who’s this for?”

“Dixi,” Jake replied. “Dixi Malkin, and, uh...” Sid watched him silently sound out Dixi’s human’s name. “Ev...genie? Evjenny?” Jake looked back at his phone, and Sid nodded in approval.

Three Rivers Animal served patients whose caretakers came from a diversity of backgrounds, including countries all over the world, from Slovakia to Nigeria to Thailand. Sid figured that learning how to properly pronounce everyone’s name on the first visit was the least he and his colleagues could do. He made sure his vet techs, Jake included, did the same.

“Yevgeny,” Jake said. “Or something like that. There’s a figure skater with the same name.”

He’d plugged his earbuds into his phone and was watching a blond man with a beaky nose and a lot of sequins dance around an ice rink.

So, a fabulously wealthy old Russian man with a similarly old cat he’d had since she was a kitten. Or maybe he’d found her at a shelter. Sid rather liked that idea.

Andi knocked on the doorframe. “Miss Fluffy and Mrs. Norvich are in Room 2, Sid.”

“Did you restock the bully sticks?” Jake asked, not quite looking at her.

“For who, Miss Fluffy?” Andi grinned at Jake, who, predictably, turned red as a beet. Then she rolled her eyes at Sid. “Give them a few minutes,” she said to him.

“You know,” Sid said as Andi walked back to her desk. “Asking stupid questions isn’t going to get you very far.”

“I know.” Jake scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Good luck with Fluffy,” he added, smiling now.

“It’s not Miss Fluffy I’m worried about.” Sid looked at the lab results again. “Well, not at this moment.”

 

.

 

The following afternoon, Sid maneuvered the food-truck-sized van that was Three Rivers’ mobile clinic up into the hills above Sewickley, through November-grey woods and past open farmland. Finally he and Jake came to a gate, the sort of enormous wrought-iron fixture rich people seemed to prefer. It swung open with an audible creak a few moments after Sid pushed the call button on the little box outside his window. He drove down a winding lane.

“Oh geez,” Jake murmured.

Sid glanced at Jake. The kid was bug-eyed. Malkin’s house seemed modest compared to some of the McMansions Sid had seen around here, but he supposed the stately brick colonial did look striking nestled among the trees. Sid pulled the van behind a black Mercedes still covered with the remains of the past weekend’s snow. Unable to drive, indeed.

He and Jake went through their usual routine of gathering supplies, going over notes, and prepping the van’s exam room for this appointment. Jake had been Sid’s tech for long enough now that they’d developed a rhythm together, and what had taken almost fifteen minutes when Jake was just an extern now took less than five.

When they were ready, Sid led the way out of the van. Then, in his own personal routine, he took a deep breath to scent the air. Usually, there was nothing remarkable to smell. Today, he stopped. Jake ran right into him.

“Sid, what the hell?”

“Malkin’s a shifter,” Sid murmured. He took another breath, but there was really no mistaking that cloying scent twisting under the more common smells of damp gravel and old snow. “You gonna be okay with that?”

It wasn’t against the law to be afflicted with lycanthropy, as the medical journals described it, but it had been for a long time. The fact that lycanthropy was a genetic condition, not viral, bacterial, or anything that could be passed through bite wounds, had been proven for decades. Unfortunately old beliefs died hard, and changing society’s collective mind often progressed at a different pace than its laws. In this case, certain parts of society were lagging far behind. 

Sid watched Jake. Jake’s eyebrows disappeared into his toque, and he peered at the pretty brick front of Malkin’s house. Then he looked at Sid. “Are you telling me this because he’s dangerous?”

Sid breathed, in and out. His sense of smell for non-supernatural things was pretty decent — better than most of his all-human friends, but not enough to make him unusual.

But he could always tell when a shifter, or a fairy, or demon-adjacent person was in the vicinity. And folks who turned into animals, or folks who preferred to eat only flowers or calf tendons, enjoyed the company of pets just as much as human folks did, so Sid saw rather a lot of Others at Three Rivers Animal. A few of his oldest clients knew that he knew — how, he wasn’t asking — and he suspected they’d put the word around that Sid’s hospital was safe, especially for shifters.

What it meant in this moment was that Sid not only knew Malkin was a shifter, but he knew that there was something off about him.

“I don’t think he’s dangerous,” Sid murmured, trying to place the slight sour smell he’d detected. “But he might be sick.”

“Think that’s why he couldn’t come down to the hospital?”

“Seems like a safe bet.” The wind picked up, cold on Sid’s face. He considered. “I think we’ll be okay though.”

The front door wrenched open. “Please hurry,” a voice called, sounding far younger than Sid had expected. “Not have much time.”

So Sid and Jake looked at each other and hurried up the walk. Sid got a good look at Malkin — definitely younger than he’d imagined, probably close to Sid’s own age, pale and tall, with the kind of shadows under his eyes that suggested a long illness. His clothes seemed to hang off of him. Closer now, there was something about his scent seemed familiar, twining around the sourness —

But then Malkin ushered them inside and Sid lost that tiny, familiar thread. Malkin’s house reeked. The smells of old food, old trash, and some really old laundry were so pungent Sid thought his eyes might water. Jake's nose was twitching. Sid shot him a glance.

“So sorry,” Malkin was saying in accented English. “Thank you for coming but so embarrass, have been, um, sick and hard to clean.” He covered his face with a huge hand. “Very hard,” he mumbled. “Dixi in here.”

Malkin opened a door off the foyer. Sid noticed a small cat door cut into its base, which rather improved his opinion of Malkin.

“This room clean,” Malkin said. He stood back, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats. And indeed, the space within was bright and tidy, with big windows and cat towers near each of them. There were a couple of litter boxes, which didn’t smell, Sid noted, and food and water dishes along the opposite wall. The only clutter came from the profusion of cat toys scattered about. It was what Sid had expected to see around the whole house, but he was relieved to see that Dixi had her own space, and that it was well cared for.

“Typed note explaining everything,” Malkin continued, gesturing to a small side table. “Sorry,” he said again. “Have to, ah. Go. Please don’t look for me, might be bad for you.” He wasn’t making a threat, Sid realized. In fact he looked deeply shamed. Sid was tempted to say that he knew, that there was nothing to be ashamed of in being a shifter, but Malkin was already bounding away.

Jake closed the door again. Sid shrugged. They found Dixi curled in a box under one of the cat trees, tucked up and wary. For shy cats, Sid ideally preferred their humans to hang around, but it wasn’t necessary. Sid sat down several meters away from Dixi and looked at Jake.

Jake was reading the note Malkin had left. “Found her as a stray last year,” he said. “Left her vet records too, she’s up to date with all her shots, FIV and FeLV negative, which is pretty lucky, honestly, but the vet noticed some gingivitis. Malkin’s been giving her anti-plaque treats, but she’s lost her appetite in the past week and he’s worried it’s her teeth. Would’ve taken her back to the vet but, he’s uh, sick. Which is what he wrote.”

Dixi was still watching Sid closely, but showed no inclination to come out. Sid didn’t blame her. “Okay sweetie,” he murmured, blinking slowly at her. “This is gonna suck, but you’re gonna be okay.”

Dixi stared hard at him for a moment before looking away. Sid sighed. “Alright,” he said to Jake. “Let’s do this.”

Getting even the most friendly of cats into a restraining bag was tricky. Getting a scared cat into one pretty much guaranteed bloodshed. Mercifully, it only took about five minutes of him and Jake moving very deliberately, armed with blankets, the cat bag, and a certain disregard for personal safety, before Dixi was snuggly bundled up with only her head sticking out. Jake gathered her up, tossed a blanket over her head, and held her to his chest, murmuring softly. She yowled in response.

Sid dabbed at his arm with gauze he kept in his pocket for this very reason, and they all marched back out to the van.

“Aw, poor baby,” Jake said in the van's exam room a few minutes later, as he and Sid peered into Dixi’s mouth. She yanked her head away and spat. “No wonder she wasn’t eating.”

“I want Dr. Cullen to take a look for sure,” Sid said. He rubbed Dixi’s forehead gently. She laid back her ears and hissed. “But she’ll probably need those two back teeth removed.”

They checked her vitals for good measure, and Jake confirmed that she had lost a few pounds from her initial vet visit last year. Sid dug out a few cans of wet food they kept in the van, choosing a couple of different brands and textures for Dixi to try. By this point Dixi seemed resigned to her fate, avoiding eye contact and almost drooping in her cat bag. Jake sprayed the blanket they’d used with Feliway, covered her with it, and held her on his lap.

Sid typed up his report twice, making a one copy for Dixi’s file, full of jargon and abbreviations, and a second for Malkin. He made sure to explain everything as thoroughly as he could, emphasizing that he couldn’t make a formal diagnosis without x-raying Dixi’s teeth, since periodontitis often affected the teeth well below the gum line, too. Dr. Cullen was the practice’s specialist in dental issues, and he had appointments available over the next few days. Sid concluded by suggesting that Malkin start brushing Dixi’s teeth regardless of what the x-rays showed, because that would alleviate her gingivitis, and recommended a few brands to try.

Sid also left his work email, on a hunch that Malkin might find written communication easier than talking on the phone. Some of his patients’ humans had English as their second (or third or fourth) language, and in a way it was easier for Sid and his colleagues to respond to emails than phone calls. Sid wanted to give Malkin the easiest possible avenue to follow up with Dixi’s pretty necessary dental work, and he hoped Malkin would reply soon.

As they all walked back into Malkin’s house, Sid realized that particular, familiar smell from earlier had gotten stronger. He was certain he’d never met Malkin before. Maybe it was just memories of undergrad, when his roommate had gone two months without doing laundry.

Dixi swatted at them both after they un-Velcro’d her cat bag, and got in a good hiss before streaking across the room and back into her box. Jake left the cans of wet food and Sid’s note on the side table and closed the door behind him. Sid was standing in the foyer, staring down the hall where Malkin had disappeared.

“Captain?”

Sid had finally placed that familiar scent emanating from Malkin. He had smelled it last in undergrad — the summer before his junior year of college, which he’d spent interning at a zoo. His tasks had included cleaning enclosures and learning quite a bit about large animal care.

“He’s a bear,” Sid murmured. “Oh, of course he’s a bear.”

It wasn’t illegal to be a shifter, but it was a hell of a lot easier to hide being, say, a squirrel than it was an apex predator. Even Sid’s grandfather, a lynx, counted on the closeness of the community he’d fostered to keep him safe.

That didn’t explain the sour note to Malkin’s scent. It was rank like some diseases could be, but it was also unlike anything Sid had smelled before, and he’d smelled quite a few diseases. Maybe that was just the way shifter bears smelled. And it was absolutely none of his business.

“Time to go,” Sid said, shaking his head. “The man clearly wants to be left alone.”

 

.

 

He received an email from Malkin early the next morning.

 _Dear Dr Crosby_ , he’d written. _Thank you for looking at Dixi. Yes I’m also thinking its teeth, but not sure what to do. Please make appointment for her as soon as possible. Can you do surgery here? Still can’t leave house, but obviously don’t want her to suffer. If cleaning teeth and maybe pulling is best solution, absolutely we want to do this. She’s a very good friend to me, love her lots. Will buy toothbrush and toothpaste like you say asap.Thank you so much for your help, and hope we can make her better!!!!_

Dixi’s teeth cleaning and probable surgery needed to be done here at the hospital, especially since Dixi would need to stay overnight for monitoring and recovery. Sid considered. He looked at his calendar, at Jake’s, and at Dr. Cullen’s. Cully had an opening in two days, one Sid had been eyeing for Dixi’s possible appointment, and Sid, if he left his own house a half hour earlier than usual that morning, had an unscheduled gap of almost two hours that morning.

He went to talk with his team.

 

.

 

“Sure this is okay, Captain?”

Sid glanced at Jake. Ferrying a pet to their appointment on behalf of their caretaker maybe wasn’t standard business practice, but Sid had made a habit of doing what felt right, especially when it came to serving the Other communities. This was one of those times. Anyway, this wasn’t more than what any other vet would do in a similar situation. Any of his friends would do the same thing, Sid was pretty sure.

“Our mission is to offer the best care possible to all members of the Three Rivers Animal community,” Sid replied. “Mr. Malkin is unable to leave his home, and we are in a position to offer Dixi the help she needs. Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

Jake was quiet. Sid let him think as they readied the van. He thought all through the rush hour traffic on Carson Street, as they trundled over the Smithfield Street Bridge, and as they picked up 65 for the winding drive north. The radio muttered in the background, pop music and beer ads and the weather report, calling for snow tomorrow.

Finally, as they passed through Emsworth Jake shifted in his seat. “Some of my friends at school told me to do my externship at another practice. They said you were, uh, weird, and not in a good way. But I didn’t want to seem like I was a lycanphobe, you know, and those guys definitely were, so I applied anyway.” He looked over at Sid. “Sometimes I think that was one of the best decisions of my life.”

Sid resisted ruffling Jake’s hair. Though really, _lycanphobe_ , didn’t they have a better term for it? “We’re glad you chose us too, Jake,” he said instead. “You’re an invaluable part of our team, and you get better every day.”

Jake shrugged and hid a smile. “Thanks, Captain,” he said.

 

.

 

Malkin was not there when Sid and Jake arrived, but the gate was open and the door unlocked. Sid walked in cautiously. “We’re here!” he called out, feeling a little foolish. Behind him, Jake sneezed.

“Sorry,” he whispered when Sid shot him a glance. Malkin’s house was pungent again today, but that was no reason to be rude.

From her room off the foyer, Dixi called out — the particular type of meow of an unhappy cat. And indeed, when Sid opened the door they found that Malkin had put Dixi in a crate already. When she saw them, she flattened her ears and bellowed.

“Sorry,” Jake said again, to Dixi this time.

Malkin had left another note, handwritten this time, in looping, off-kilter letters that took Sid and Jake a full minute to decipher.

 _Sorry Im not here_ , it said. _Thanks for Dixi make better send_ — “Is that ‘updates?’” Jake asked. “I think so?” Sid replied. — _good luck feel better Dixi Zh_ —

“Maybe that’s his name?”

“Evgeni doesn’t start with Z, though.”

“A diminutive?”

Jake scratched his head. Beneath them, Dixi cried again.

Sid flipped the paper and pulled out a pen.

 _Thanks for getting Dixi ready_ , he wrote as legibly as possible. _We’ll send you email updates when she gets out of surgery. She’s in good hands. - Sid and Jake_

For good measure he added the time of pickup, and his email address again. Jake hefted Dixi’s crate, and the little party walked back out to the van, Dixi growling all the way.

 

.

 

Sid pulled into Three Rivers' parking lot early the following morning, before even Jake and the other techs showed up. Whenever he had animals spending the night at his hospital, he liked to check on them as soon as possible — which meant, this time of year, arriving well before dawn. The guy on the radio read the weather report, and apparently they’d upgraded whatever system was moving through to a proper winter storm. Sid didn’t let himself think about that yet. He unlocked the back door, flipped on the lights, punched in the security code, and went to find Dixi.

She was up, and happily alert and responsive. Still a little loopy from her painkillers, but he wouldn’t hold that against her. Sid opened her cage door and held out his fingers. She watched them for a moment, then looked up at Sid’s face. He waited. Finally she chirped and butted her head against his hand.

“There she is,” Sid murmured, rubbing her forehead gently. “Feeling better, sweetheart?”

She chirped again, and sat back. Sid had just enough time to register her change of posture before Dixi leaped into his arms.

“Hey now.” Sid heard the laugh in his own voice as he cradled her. She tucked her head under his chin and purred like a swarm of bees. Then he felt her making muffins against his shoulder, and was glad he’d worn an extra sweater today. “We’ll get you home this evening, okay? I’m gonna take you home, I just have to do my work here first.”

She was less than thrilled about going back into the cage, and Sid dug out some of the extra fancy canned food they reserved for the picky eaters, if only to alleviate his guilt about needing to keep her there. Because of the time it would take to return Dixi home, and the oncoming storm this evening, Sid planned to drive Dixi up himself after his appointments and then go back to his apartment from there.

The snow wasn’t supposed to start until around seven. As long as Sid was on the road by 4:30 he should have plenty of time to drop Dixi off and get home himself.

He sent Malkin an email update of how Dixi was doing, and said again that he’d return her this evening.

Naturally today was one of those days when all of the careful gaps Andi built into the hospital’s schedule evaporated entirely. They had two emergencies before noon. One accidental ingestion of antifreeze — and this was why Three Rivers Animal had at least a case of vodka in constant supply — and the second was a puppy with probable parvo, which was why the building had a quarantine area. Fortunately those clients had called ahead. As Kris and Jake went to meet the family at the quarantine doors, Sid waved goodbye. He wouldn’t be seeing either of them on this side of the building for the rest of the day.

 _Sound great!!_ Malkin had replied, this morning and several years ago. _Really looking forward to it gate will be open see you soon Dixi thank you so much Dr Crosby))))))_

Sid saw the email when he finally had five minutes to put together for a quick lunch at — oh hell, three o’clock already. He shoved down lukewarm french fries and resisted checking the latest updates on the storm. He would get Dixi home tonight.

Jake called at 4:45 and said they’d had the parvo puppy transferred to Avets Emergency Hospital in Monroeville. Three Rivers Animal had a quarantine area, but it was more to protect staff and other clients from contagious animals than it was to actually treat them. Sid was relieved. That puppy had a good chance, now.

Finally, at 6:15, Sid loaded up a very petulant Dixi in her carrier and sent one last email to Malkin, saying he was finally on his way. He hoped Malkin saw it.

The first flurries were beginning to fall by the time Sid started his car. He put the heat on full blast and turned around to check on Dixi. She peered at him from the back seat, saucer-eyed in her carrier.

“I’m gonna get you home, sweetheart, don’t worry. I’m gonna drive really slow, and really careful, and you’ll be home before you know it.”

Sid wasn’t sure what he would do, after that. He’d packed a small overnight bag this morning, just in case, but the thought of staying at a motel somewhere up in Sewickley or Moon was — Well. He’d see what the weather was like by the time he’d dropped off Dixi. It wasn’t as if he’d never driven in snow before. And this was his own car, not the van. He had snow tires and all-wheel drive; as long as no one else was on the roads, he would probably be fine.

But by the time he hit Sewickley, a stressful hour of driving later, Sid was a little less confident he’d make it home tonight. The snow was coming down so heavily his headlights made it hard to see, and there was easily an inch on the roads already. He’d narrowly avoided an accident by the McKees Rocks Bridge, a hulking SUV completely forgetting the laws of physics fifty yards ahead of him. In other circumstances Sid would’ve stopped, but tonight that seemed like a good way to get hit by other sliding cars. And the accident hadn’t looked too bad, just a few crunched bumpers.

He made a careful turn onto the winding road leading up to Malkin’s neighborhood and prayed he didn’t encounter any other drivers. Sid was pretty sure that if he had to stop, going up this hill, he’d never get going again.

It wasn’t that Sid hated driving in snow. He didn’t especially like it, but he trusted his car, and he’d done it before. It was Dixi, in his backseat, and Malkin, waiting up ahead. He needed to see this cat home safe.

Finally, finally, Sid turned into Malkin’s drive. The gate was still open, and he crawled down the driveway and parked behind the snow-covered Mercedes. Then he put the car in park and sat back with a groan. His hands, he realized, where shaking. He had no idea how he would get home.

Sid was extricating Dixi’s carrier from his backseat when he heard the front door open.

“Thanks god!” Malkin cried. Sid hefted the carrier, but Malkin was right there, looking pale in the lamplight and reaching for Dixi. Sid passed the carrier over.

“I’m so worry,” Malkin went on. “Come in, come in! Don’t stay in the snow, it’s cold!”

Suddenly exhausted, Sid just followed. Maybe he could ask to use the washroom before he left again.

Malkin bustled into Dixi’s room as Sid unlaced his boots. He didn’t want to take off his coat, that seemed too presumptuous, but it was polite to not track snow inside. He pulled out his phone and sent texts to Kris and Jake so they’d know he had at least arrived at Malkin’s place.

Sid heard Dixi’s meows before he realized Malkin was speaking — in Russian. He wandered over to the door of Dixi’s room, feeling awkward, and saw Malkin on the floor with her, curled on his side as she minced back and forth, chirping and purring. His hands were huge. Sid looked away.

“Doctor Crosby,” Malkin said, and it took Sid a minute to realize he’d switched back to English, that he was speaking to him. “Please come in! Sit! Must be so tired, so happy you bring Dixi back but oh my God, worst weather! I’m make food, you hungry? Is soup.”

Sid pushed off of the doorframe and looked down at his coat. The day was catching up to him. He could smell the soup now, something herby and familiar. If he sat down, it was terrible to know he’d have to stand up again, and leave.

“Thank you,” he said. “I really should be going though.” He wanted nothing more than to sit and eat soup, except maybe to sleep for the next week. He needed to go before he embarrassed himself.

Malkin pushed off the floor. “Doctor Crosby,” he said. Dixi began threading through his legs, and he reached down to scoop her up. “Know maybe this is not, um. Ideal. But weather is really bad. Is okay if you need place to stay, for tonight. I, ah. Clean. In case.”

Sid looked up. Malkin’s cheeks were pink. Sid had been too tired to realize it before, but Malkin’s house smelled — just fine. There was Malkin’s complicated scent, and then the soup, and a slightly acrid hint of household cleaners. The last of Sid’s resistance faded. He reached to push a hand through his hair, and discovered he was still wearing his toque, so he pulled that off. Malkin’s shoulders relaxed a fraction.

“Okay,” he said. “But maybe start calling me Sid, then.”

Malkin smiled now, eyes and mouth bowing in a way that transformed his face from generally weary to — oh.

“Geno,” he said. “Pleased to meet.”

 

.

 

It was canned soup, the kind readily available at grocery stores and gas stations, and which Sid hadn’t had since vet school. Geno served it with a sleeve of crackers. It was the best meal Sid had eaten in days.

“Mama soup way better,” Geno mumbled after Sid admitted this. “Want her to visit soon, but. Maybe not possible yet.”

Sid watched Geno for a moment. Geno was watching Dixi. She had her own place at the table, perched on a barstool. She appeared to be enjoying her own canned dinner, if the way she was devouring the plate of paté before her was any indicator.

“So happy she’s fix,” Geno said softly. “Hate knowing she in pain, and can’t help.”

“I’m glad we could,” Sid replied. He carefully scooped another bite of soup from his bowl. “I’m glad you reached out to us, and that we could.”

Geno stroked a finger down Dixi’s back. She arched, chirped, and did not look up from her food dish. “Me too,” he said.

They talked about easy things. Sid shared some of the better stories from the hospital, about Pomeranian puppies and formerly feral cats and that one time someone had brought in their pet chicken, who’d been rather better behaved than the puppies. Geno talked about why he’d moved to Pittsburgh, of all places — because his good friend was a professor at Pitt, and if Geno was going to commit to getting a PhD it might as well be at a university where he already knew someone.

“And,” Geno added. “Houses much cheaper here than in, for example, Miami. Knew I want place with no neighbors. Easy choice, after that.”

Sid contemplated his soup. Geno must have guessed what he was not asking, though, because he shrugged a little. “Rich uncle,” he said, almost apologetically. “No kids, and when he die, left everything to me and my brother. Changed my life.”

Sid nodded. He’d be paying off his loans for the next forty years, but there was no way to mention that without sounding bitter. And he wasn’t, not really. Certainly not towards Geno.

They didn’t talk about shifters, or Others, at all. Sid felt a little awkward, like he was lying by omission by not admitting that he knew what Geno was, but it still wasn’t his business. If Geno felt comfortable sharing that with him, then he would.

Sid was carrying their bowls to the sink, trying to work out a way to fit Mrs. Norvich and her addiction to bully sticks into the conversation, when he heard Geno groan. He turned and found Geno hunched over, head on the table. Dixi was by his side, rubbing against his hair.

“Whoa, you okay?” Then he inhaled. “Oh, shit. Should I leave?”

“No where to go, Sid,” Geno growled. All the hair stood up on the back of Sid’s neck. “So sorry. Tried to wait, but can’t.” He shuddered. Dixi yowled. “Can’t anymore.”

Very, very slowly, Sid set the bowls on the counter. Geno was still hunched over. Dixi paced back and forth in front of him, butting against his head with every pass. He reeked of bear, of his shifter self, and Sid fought the urge to sneeze.

“Do what you need to do, then,” he said quietly. For his part, Sid turned so he wasn’t directly facing Geno, slumped a little, and looked away. Bear or not, Geno didn’t strike him as someone whose animal aspect was aggressive, but Sid knew keeping his own posture as non-threatening as possible was still sensible here.

Geno pushed himself to his feet, panting and shaking visibly. Dixi jumped into his arms, and he cradled her with a striking level of gentleness. Sid, watching out of the corner of his eye, saw that she clung to Geno in much the same way as she’d clung to Sid that morning at Three Rivers Animal.

“Gotta go,” Geno choked out, his voice an octave lower. “Help yourself. Sofa, bathroom, over there.” He jerked a shoulder. “Sleep. Ah. Well.”

“You, too,” Sid murmured. A few moments later, a door somewhere beyond the kitchen slammed. Sid heard a strange snick-clack just after. It was the sound, he realized with a shiver, of locks sliding shut.

He stood there for some time, alone in the big kitchen — arranged, he saw now, with exaggerated gaps between the table and the center island, and the island and the surrounding counters. Easily wide enough to fit a fully grown bear.

Sid rubbed his arms. Through the windows the snow was still falling. It looked like five inches at least had accumulated on the deck off the kitchen. He really didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Well. This certainly wasn’t how he thought the day would turn out when he woke up this morning, but at least he was out of the weather. Finally Sid shuffled back to the foyer for his bag, and went to seek out the sofa.

 

.

 

He awoke several hours later with a sudden lurch to consciousness that made him wonder if he’d heard something. Had there been a noise? The sofa was fairly comfortable, and while the blankets Geno had given him smelled rather strongly of laundry detergent, at least the scent was familiar. It was dark — far darker than the nights got outside his own apartment window in the South Side, but that hadn’t woken him either.

Then, from the kitchen, someone moaned.

Sid was up and dodging around the sofa before his brain had fully caught on to being awake. Rushing a shifter in their animal aspect was a decidedly bad idea, especially one weighing in excess of five hundred pounds, but that had been _Geno_. The air was filled with his scent, damp loam mixed with that particular sour smell.

And it was Geno, sprawled across the kitchen floor. Sid stopped, arrested by the sight of his host belly down on the tiles, hands clenched in fists and back heaving with panted breaths. Geno was shockingly thin, illuminated only by the cold light over the sink. Sid wasted a moment staring at the lines of Geno's ribs. Then he dashed back to the sofa to grab a blanket.

“Here,” he said from the kitchen doorway. Geno was struggling to his hands and knees, muttering between gasps. Dixi saw Sid first and cantered over to him, meowing loudly. Geno glanced over his shoulder and collapsed back to the floor with another groan.

“Fuck,” he growled, presumably in English for Sid’s benefit.

Sid strode into the kitchen. “Here,” he said again, tossing a blanket over Geno’s back. He knelt down. “What can I do?”

Geno rolled slowly to his side, taking most of the blanket with him. Sid kept his eyes on Geno’s face. “Not supposed to see,” Geno muttered.

“I’m sorry,” Sid said, and he was. Losing control of your body was humiliating enough without witnesses. Sid wasn’t even a friend. “I was awake, and I heard you. If you’d like me to leave you here, then I will, but if there is something I can do, I’d like to.”

Geno peered at him, panting still. The shadows on his face looked like bruises. Dixi jumped on Geno’s hip and draped herself there, purring loudly.

“Need food,” Geno said at last. “Change is so hard —” His eyes widened and he looked away.

“I know,” Sid said quickly. “I know you’re a shifter. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner, but I’ve known from the start.”

Geno looked back at Sid. Sid returned his gaze, letting himself be seen. “Need food,” Geno repeated finally.

“Where?”

“Pantry,” Geno said. He pushed himself up, dislodging Dixi, and wrapped the blanket more firmly around himself. Sid watched his face. “Chips, Gatorade.”

Sid stood and was looking for the pantry door when Geno continued. “Freezer, berry and other berry; fridge, chicken, egg, rice, carrot. Usually get ready before, but, not have time tonight.”

Because he hadn’t wanted to alarm Sid. Sid would be kicking himself over that one for a while.

Geno demolished a full bag of potato chips and two bottles of Gatorade while still on the floor. By the time he hauled himself to a chair by the table, the intensity of his shifter smell had faded. Meanwhile Sid had laid out enough food to feed a couple of professional athletes. All of it was prepared — the eggs hardboiled and shelled, the chicken and rice seasoned — and Sid really just had to open bags and containers and set them on the table.

He pulled a fork from the drying rack by the sink. Geno was slouching over the table, still draped in only the blanket. “Do you want a plate?” Sid asked.

Geno considered. “Maybe,” he said. “Not normally, but — do you?”

“What?”

“Plates in that cupboard there. Get two okay?”

Sid stared. “I can’t eat your food, Geno.”

“Of course you eat too!” Geno twisted to peer at Sid. The blanket fell off his shoulder. “What, you think I’m make you get all this out and, like, okay go to bed again? No! Must eat, Sid!”

It seemed incredibly rude to eat Geno’s food when he was so clearly famished, but Sid didn’t see how refusing would be any better. And he was, unfortunately, pretty hungry.

So Sid found himself at Geno’s table for the second time that night. If he took smaller portions of everything than he ordinarily would, at least Geno didn’t seem to notice.

Geno slowly revived, looking merely like he was recovering from the flu, instead of, say, death itself. Finally, halfway through his second plate, he looked up.

“How you know, Sid?”

Sid met his gaze. “My grandfather's a shifter. Lynx. I inherited his sense of smell.”

Geno made a little noise and shooed Dixi away from his plate. “Guess that explains nose then,” he said after a moment.

Sid blinked.

Geno shrugged, shoulders very pale in the kitchen light. “Knew soon as I saw you, must be special. Now I know: special nose.” When Geno met Sid’s eyes, his were dancing.

It had been years since anyone had chirped Sid for the size of his nose. Kris had grown tired of that joke, Jake was too respectful to make it, and Flower knew he had no room to talk. Sid felt himself smiling, and watched Geno’s smile bloom in return.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Sid said. Geno hummed.

Dixi minced her way across the table to inspect Sid’s plate, but all Sid had left were a few half-frozen blueberries. When she head-butted his fingers, he obligingly ran a hand down her back. She arched into it, flexing her toes and purring.

“What happened to you?” Sid asked after a few minutes. “I’ve never heard of a shifter who can’t control their changes.”

It was not a question you asked of an acquaintance. It was probably rude to even ask a friend. Sid told himself he was professionally concerned and looked up at Geno.

Geno slumped back into his chair. “Curse,” he muttered, staring at his plate. “Can’t stay human for more than few hours a day.”

Sid’s breath caught. Curses were _absolutely_ illegal. It was one of the areas humans and Others agreed on, right up there with not murdering people and the utter stupidity of the US tax code.

“What can —” he started, but stopped himself. A common characteristic of curses was an inability to communicate how they might be broken.

“Shit,” he said instead. Curses were illegal, but only if the cursethrower got caught. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do, eh?” he added, feeling useless and angry at the same time. Likely Geno wouldn’t be able to tell Sid even if there was a way he could help.

But Geno managed a smile. “You fix Dixi, that’s very good already.”

He picked his way through another few spoonfuls of chicken and rice as Sid thought about the implications of being so cursed. This at least explained the sour notes in Geno’s scent. Dixi, oblivious, began grooming out her tail, hind leg straight in the air.

“Are there conditions?” Sid asked. It wasn’t the same as asking how to break it; every curse had boundaries, chains that held the bearer fixed, and so cursed. Sometimes knowing the conditions led to knowing how to break the curse.

“Not sure. Was joke.” Geno attempted a laugh. “Last I’m remember, friends say, ‘Oh Zhenya you sleep so much maybe just hibernate through winter!’ Maybe they surprise, too, that curse stuck.” He pulled the blanket around him again, looking impossibly small. “Then friends leave, only can’t get back because stupid visa problems. Probably curse forever.”

Sid was silent. He shouldn’t say anything more, he really shouldn’t, but — “ _Friends_ did this to you?”

Geno’s mouth twisted. “Well.” He glanced over at Sid. “What’s word for when person know you a long time, but not enemy, but you don’t trust either?”

“...Oh,” Sid said.

There were two ways to lift a curse. Either the thrower reversed it — which should be possible even in cases of negligent cursing, since a major component in all magic was sheer force of will — or the cursebearer figured out how to break it on their own. But since breaking a curse laid on you required certain conditions to be met, conditions which the curse itself usually rendered nearly impossible to meet, your best bet was to just go through life hoping you’d never be cursed. There were very good reasons why curses were illegal.

“Think maybe I get summer to be normal,” Geno continued. “Joke was about hibernate especially, so maybe I’m just like, bear bear now, not shifter bear.” He shook his head. “Sound funny in English. Shifter bear. Shit bear. That’s me.” He smiled at Sid, but it didn’t hide his sadness very well.

Sid smiled back, because he had no idea what else to do. He wanted, he realized with some surprise, to see Geno smile again — really smile, like he had earlier when Sid had decided to stay the night. Sid wanted to be someone who made Geno really smile. He tucked that away to consider later.

Finally Geno sighed. “Gonna have to change again,” he said wearily. “Sorry for being bad host.”

“You’ve been a great host,” Sid said. “I was planning to drive home after dropping off Dixi, you have no idea how much of a relief it was to stay here.”

Geno’s eyes widened. “Drive home? Sid, your mother kill me, I’m let you drive home in this.”

Sid grinned. “She’d probably kill me first, don’t worry.” He watched as Geno pushed back his plate and scooted back from the table. Dixi hopped down from the table. Sid followed the way she stalked across the kitchen instead of noticing how Geno’s blanket slipped back down his torso as he rose.

“You could stay,” he murmured. This was Geno’s house, designed for both of Geno’s aspects. It was uncomfortable to think that Sid’s presence was making Geno hide.

Geno sighed. “Get what you mean, so thank you, but.” He fiddled with the blanket, wrapped it more firmly around his waist. “Can’t control bear now. It’s not normal change, you know? If you get hurt I’m never forgive myself.”

He moved toward the doorway, and glanced over his shoulder. “Then both our mammas kill me. Sleep well, Sid. Maybe see you in morning, but if not have safe trip home, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied. “Sleep well, too, Geno.”

Because he was thinking of his mother, and what she’d do if she were here now, Sid put away the remaining food, and washed the dishes, including the soup bowls from earlier. Then he stood in the kitchen, in the cold white light, full of things too complicated to yet name, for a long, long time.

 

.

 

The days following his stay at Geno’s felt surreal. Sid would occasionally have vivid dreams, barely remembered upon waking but which still followed him the next day like a vague scent, just out of reach. He had to keep reminding himself that Geno’s hadn’t been a dream. He threw himself into the relative routine of the hospital, of wellness checkups, emergencies, and house calls, but even Jake noticed something was up.

“Still tired?” he asked one afternoon, after Sid had stared too long at a patient’s file. It was a Pomeranian, in for her annual exam, but he had told Geno about that litter of Pom puppies...

Sid blinked. “Yeah,” he said. “Really gotta get to bed earlier.”

“Tell me this is normal,” Sid complained that night, staring at his phone. “It’s been four days! Why do I still feel like this?”

Flower’s face, a little pixelated, frowned. “Mon chum, I’d love to lie to you, but...”

Sid groaned. “I can’t do this,” he said. “He’s a client, this isn’t right, I shouldn’t feel this way.”

“Yes, I know, you regularly fall in love with your clients, it’s a tremendous problem for you.”

“Fuck you,” Sid muttered.

“Hey! The children are listening!” Flower flipped the camera, to where Scarlett and Estelle were zoned out in front of an enormous television. Brightly colored cartoon characters danced across the screen.

“Yeah, they’re really paying attention.”

“My point,” Flower continued, flipping back to an uncomfortably close shot of his nose, “is maybe your feelings are both not normal and very normal.”

“Thanks,” Sid said. “That’s very helpful.”

“I am always helpful,” Flower retorted, screen jarring as he shook the phone. He was living in Las Vegas now, having been offered the opportunity of a lifetime at a new wildlife rescue. They tried to FaceTime at least once a week, because it was better than nothing, but in moments like these Sid missed his friend’s presence fiercely.

“I just keep having this urge to reach out to him,” Sid tried again. “Like I should, like it’s wrong that I am not.”

“Because he’s cursed and helpless?”

Sid shook his head, almost involuntarily. “No, no, because he’s cursed and that pisses me off.”

“Is that all?”

“Well...” Sid watched with some exasperation as Flower grinned. “No, listen — he’s. He’s kind. He’s kind to his cat, and he was kind to me, despite everything, and he misses his mother.”

Flower’s grin softened. “Maybe just send him your email address? It’s different than your number, maybe a little more formal, but still personal.”

Sid had considered it, but hearing Flower suggest it was validating.

“Maybe I’ll do that,” he said. “Then the ball’s in his court, eh?”

“Sure, cher.”

 

.

 

Sid sent Geno his private email address the following morning. _In case you needed a friend_ , he added. After he pressed _Send_ , Sid fretted for the rest of the day about whether Geno might _need_ a friend — surely he already had friends, even friends who didn’t curse him. He’d made an appointment with Three Rivers Animal not to meet Sid, but because he needed someone to take care of his cat. It was beyond presumptuous to suggest that Geno not only needed friends, but that Sid could be one of them.

Sid had more or less worked through the anxiety that had plagued his high school and college years, but it still resurfaced occasionally. By the time he arrived home that evening, he had a headache throbbing over his eyes and the feeling that his inbox was a nest of angry wasps. He didn’t want to open it. He had to open it.

He sat down, opened his laptop, and closed his eyes as his inbox refreshed. Of course there was a message from Geno. He took a deep breath, and then another when the first came out shaky. He closed his eyes again, and then squinted enough to click on it.

_Sid!!!!!! So nice to hear from you I’m so glad!!!)))))_

Sid relaxed with a laugh, feeling silly and relieved. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, still smiling.

_How you doing? How was your day?? I’m okay. Spent 16 hours as bear today, but bears can’t check emails._

_Dixi say hi, we try tooth brushing soon, package just arrived. Cat toothbrush is so cute!_

_English is easier when I write. I can see where I need all the extra words_

_Seryozha (friend) (also advisor) knows what happened to me. His wife is_

_Okay google say hare?? Russian makes more sense, sounds nothing like hairs (hares????) on head. Like you Sid but English is a stupid language_

_Anyway Seryozha understands. Asks good questions, like for my research but also for me, I know he cares. Could be a lot worse_

_Worst part is I don’t get to say when I’m bear or when I’m me. Curse takes my choice. Love bear but not having to be bear. Does that make sense?_

_Anyway tell me how you are_

_Your friend)))))))  
Geno_

Sid got up, walked around the room, sat down again, read and then re-read Geno’s email. He went to his kitchen, realized he wasn’t hungry, drank a glass of water anyway, and then let himself reply.

 _Dear Geno_ , he wrote. _I’m really glad to hear from you too. Tell Dixi I say hi. Try some of the toothpaste (is it fish flavor, or chicken?) on your finger at first, like you’re offering a treat. That should help get her used to the whole ordeal. Might take a few weeks, just be patient._

_What’s your research in? A friend of mine is doing hers in rehabilitation practices for former bait dogs (like from dog fighting). It’s a pretty heavy topic, but she’s met a lot of really great dogs._

_If I ever meet the people who cursed you I’m going to throw them in the river. The Mon, not the Allegheny, it’s more polluted._

_Your curse sounds awful, I’m so sorry._

_I’m doing pretty good. My day was pretty typical, but maybe you’ll find it interesting. Let’s see._

_Jake and I had the van today. (Kris, the other main vet at our hospital, uses it as well, with his tech Brian. Then we have Dr. Cullen — that’s the vet who did Dixi’s teeth, that’s his specialty — a couple of days each week, and Olli — Dr. Maatta — as well. Olli’s pretty young, but he specializes in rabbits and other small animals, and he’s good at it.)_

_Anyway, one of our appointments was with a very small fat dog named Butterfingers. He’s a Cheweenie, which means he’s half Chihuahua half Dachshund, and 100% anxiety, all the time. But he’s pretty friendly once he decides to trust you._

Sid rambled on, talking about his work as he rarely did anymore, because nearly every one of his friends was somehow connected to Three Rivers Animal and they all had a shorthand together. He didn’t have to explain anything to them.

Reading back over his email some time later, Sid realized it was probably far too long, pages, probably, but he’d had a good time writing it all out and Geno had asked. Maybe paragraphs of animal stories would cheer Geno up.

At last, Sid hit _Send_ , and finally went to bed.

 

.

 

Several years ago, Sid had read a book told entirely through letters the characters wrote to one another. Julie — she of the dog rehab research — had given him a copy, and he’d let it sit on his shelf for months before finally giving it a try. He’d thought it would be boring. It wasn’t. The way the characters’ relationships unfolded and intersected, one letter at a time, was clever and interesting and vastly unlike the Beginning-Middle-End format drilled into him back in high school. Sid finished the book in a weekend.

Sid didn’t consider himself a great letter writer. Aside from Christmas cards to his grandparents, Sid couldn’t remember the last time he’d posted an actual note to someone. But his email exchanges with Geno, in which they talked about their days, and Geno’s thesis — in late-Soviet poetry, which was so far out of Sid’s wheelhouse he found everything Geno shared fascinating — and linked each other the occasional cute cat video, all of that reminded him of nothing so much as how it had felt to read that book. It was as if this acquaintance was something living, a seedling maybe, and their emails were fertilizer, and Sid was watching it grow day by day.

“That’s ... that’s a wonderful way of putting it, cher,” Flower said when Sid tried to tell him.

“I made it sound stupid,” Sid muttered, not looking at his phone.

Vero peered over Flower’s shoulder. “You made it sound beautiful, Sid. Like something really special. Marc-André has no sense of romance, I should have maybe married you instead.”

Flower swore and lunged. The screen lurched, blurred. Judging by the sudden view of the ceiling it seemed Flower had tossed his phone somewhere. Sid could hear Vero laugh, and Flower swear again. He got up for a glass of water.

“Anyway,” Vero said, appearing back on the screen, face flushed and hair tangled. As Sid picked up his phone again he watched Flower rest his head on Vero’s shoulder. “We are very happy for you. Marc-André would like to take credit for telling you to email Geno, and requests three boxes of Girl Scout Cookies in payment.”

“Thin Mints,” Flower said.

“Get your own Girl Scout Cookies!” Sid cried. Sometimes he missed these people, these dear friends, so, so much. “What, aren’t there any Girl Scouts in Vegas?”

“They’re always better when someone else buys them for you,” Flower informed him. “Two boxes, and that’s my final offer.”

“Fine,” Sid said, laughing. He’d send four.

 

.

 

Days slid into weeks. Winter deepened, turning grey and bitterly cold. They ran space heaters in the exam rooms for clients, and in triage and surgery for the animals. In order to warm the van up enough for long days taking appointments around town, Sid began starting it when he arrived in the mornings, and even then it was chilly for the first hour. Andi and Jake posted cold-weather PSAs on Three Rivers’ Facebook and Instagram, and Kris managed to secure a donation of several dozen pairs of dog booties, to give out to clients who needed them. Someone else donated four bales of straw and trash bags full of clean fleece blankets, so the hospital partnered with a local cat rescue to host a backyard shelter workshop for ferals.

Logically Sid knew that these kind of cold snaps only ever lasted a few weeks, but this year those weeks seemed very long.

 _Tell me you’re warm enough_ , he emailed Geno after one especially brutal day. _Both rivers are frozen, people are ice-fishing in the middle of the Mon, and we’ve had to deal with four cases of exposure and frostbite this week. I had three euths today — all age-related but it’s always hard, it never gets easier — and Jake called off. He thinks he has the flu. Now we’re all waiting to see if we get it._

Geno replied as Sid was brushing his teeth before bed.

 _Very warm and cozy Sid_ , he wrote. _Have fireplace and generator if power ever goes out, but okay so far. Me and Dixi sleep under lots of blankets but bear doesn’t mind cold_

_Dixi doing so good by the way! Actually she loves tooth brushing, such a good girl. Not really same as brushing my teeth though is it? Hahaa_

_Sorry to hear you’re sad and tired. Don’t get flu!!! What you do to laugh, Sid?_

_Maybe you come over some time? Not for getting stuck just to visit! I make soup again, is my specialty))))))_

_your friend Geno_

 

.

 

 _Here’s my number_ , Sid sent Geno a few days later. _I like emailing but maybe this is easier?_

Within the hour Sid had five texts from an unknown number. They were all pictures of Dixi.

 

.

 

 _Is it still okay if I come over?_ Sid texted one afternoon, when the forecast was a balmy 32°F and he had a rare unscheduled half-hour to himself. _Maybe tomorrow night? I’ll bring dinner_

 _No need Sid_ , Geno replied in the middle of Sid’s next appointment. _Would love to see you but no need to bring food, was just joke about soup_

 _There’s a restaurant I’ve been meaning to try_ , Sid sent three hours later, when he had the chance to look at his phone again. _They do takeout_

_Well if you insist_

So after work the next day Sid made his way up to Mount Washington. The sun had just set: the days were getting longer, and the still-bare trees looked almost pretty against the turquoise sky.

The restaurant was situated at the top of Shiloh Street, the sort of place you’d drive by if you weren’t looking for it, hidden in plain sight right on the corner. A bell above the door chimed when he walked in.

“I’m here for pickup?” he told the woman who came out to greet him.

“Ah, yes!” She smiled and gave him a not-so-subtle once-over. “You having a party? You’re a big guy but that’s a lot of food for one.”

Sid ducked his head and grinned. “I’m sharing it with a friend. He’s, ah, he’s been sick, so I wanted to get enough to last him a while. He said he missed his mother’s cooking.”

Her gaze softened. “Well, we’re maybe not like his mother’s cooking, but it’s my mother’s recipes, hopefully it will be good enough. That’s very kind of you to do.”

Sid could feel himself blushing and ignored it. “Just trying to be a good friend,” he murmured.

He hoped the food was still mostly warm as he pulled into Geno’s drive. He’d ordered a little of everything, a couple of appetizers, a few entrees, several sides that looked interesting, and three kinds of dessert. His car smelled pretty incredible.

The front door was open. As he set down his bags in the foyer, Dixi emerged from the back of the house, tail raised in a question mark. Sid knelt to greet her, and she sniffed his hand carefully before turning to investigate what he’d brought with him.

“Sid! You here!”

Sid looked up. Geno slouched in the hall doorway, wearing old sweats, an oversized hoodie and a sleepy grin. Sid’s heart thumped. Geno had tucked his hands inside his sleeves and his feet were bare. There was no reason why Sid should find that so endearing. No reason at all.

“Smell amazing. Help take to kitchen? Looks like a lot, maybe we need plates?”

Sid toed off his shoes and handed a bag to Geno. Their fingers brushed. Sid wasted one instant wishing he hadn’t come, that he’d stuck with just texting Geno occasionally and not making gestures like this, because Sid knew what this was to him and he was suddenly certain that Geno would too. That Sid’s wishes would be seen, and unwelcome.

Still, he picked up the other bag, dodged around Dixi, and followed Geno back to the kitchen.

“Smell so good, Sid, can’t believe — smell almost like —” Geno popped the lid on one of the containers, revealing a truly enormous portion of lamb plov.

“Sid.” Geno looked at him. Sid took another container out of its bag. “Sid, you go to Kavsar?”

There was only one restaurant in Pittsburgh that served Russian food. The reviews were generally good, and so were the prices. If he brought his own lunches to work for the next week, all this was even within his budget.

“You mentioned that your mother couldn’t come here,” Sid said quietly. “I know it’s not the same, but...”

He felt Geno’s hand on his shoulder. Sid looked up. Gently, Geno turned him so they faced one another. “I got a lot,” Sid said, talking through the tumult of nerves and desire churning in his belly. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“Can give hug first?”

Sid blinked. The desire surged, buoyed by a swell of what felt like joy.

“Yeah.” He swallowed. “Sure, that’s okay.”

Geno stepped into Sid and _enveloped_ him — that was the only word for it, as Geno leaned down and wrapped both arms around him. He was warm, and Sid was reminded of chilly mornings spent in bed, of mugs of cocoa, and the first sunny days of spring. Sid thought that if he could stay here, just right here, he’d be anchored against whatever exhaustions life threw at him.

Then he shifted, tightened his own arms around Geno, and suddenly he could see it working both ways. He could be that anchor for Geno, too, and he knew it with a sureness that shook him to the core.

Sid had never smelled certainty before, hadn’t known it could have a scent, but as he wrapped his arms more firmly around Geno and sank into the steady warmth he found there, Sid breathed in a heady combination of scents he wasn’t sure he’d encountered before. Here was a surety he hadn’t known he’d been lacking. He inhaled again, and tucked his nose into Geno’s neck with a little groan.

Geno shuddered once, hard. Sid pulled back enough to see Geno’s face.

“Gotta change,” he said. He was smiling, a little sleepy and a little nervous around the edges. Sid wanted to brush his fingers over Geno’s brow.

“Want me to leave?” The food, still half un-boxed on the countertop, was all for Geno. Sid could pick up something else on his way home, if Geno wanted to be alone.

But Geno shook his head and stepped back. “Bear want to meet,” he said. “Probably won’t be long.”

“Oh!” The last time Sid met a shifter whose animal aspect wanted an introduction, it had been Flower, back in vet school. Geno’s request, now, made him awkward with surprise. “Should I stand, or sit, or...?” Flower was a ferret. Sid had sprawled on the floor for that occasion.

Geno waved at the kitchen table. “Just sit, is probably fine.” He was trembling now, and took another step back. “Sorry for delay for dinner,” he added. “Kind of urgent, all the sudden.”

“Not a problem.” Sid made his way to the table and pulled out a chair. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. He looked back across the room in time to see Geno stripping out of his clothes. Sid stared up at the ceiling.

“Can look, Sid,” Geno said, voice low and suggestive in a way that made it impossible for Sid _not_ to look. He caught the end of Geno’s smile, sly and knowing. Then he closed his eyes.

He heard the rumble of Geno’s laugh, heard his voice catch on a groan, listened as Geno’s breaths tore from him, sounding less and less human as the seconds passed. The scent of bear, musky and damp, was nearly overpowering. Sid focused on his own breaths, making them even and steady.

There was a long moment of silence. Then the unmistakable sound of claws made their way across the floor.

Sid opened his eyes.

Geno’s bear was less than a foot away, eye level with Sid where he sat at the table, and sniffing carefully. His ears were forward, Sid noted, not quite daring to meet the bear’s eyes. He was curious but not alarmed, and Sid did his best to sit quietly. His own instincts were reminding him rather frantically that this was a _bear_ , a very large bear with claws longer than Sid’s fingers, and why wasn’t he running away already?

Sid took a long breath and released it on a sigh.

The bear sniffed him with the kind of thorough investigation Sid would expect from a confident dog or strange cat. Sid returned the favor as unobtrusively as he could. The musk and loamy scents of forest were all bear, Sid knew. The bears he’d cared for at the zoo had smelled the same way. But there too were the distinctly shifter-ish notes Geno carried with him in both of his aspects, fresh and dark like woodsmoke on a winter’s night, and what Sid now knew was the sour-rot scent of his curse. Sid did his best to ignore that, breathing in again.

Geno smelled good, Sid realized with a start.

No, not good. Fresh bread smelled good. Flowers on the breeze in May, and the city right after a rainstorm — those smelled good. Geno smelled _right_.

Dixi jumped on the bear’s shoulders and draped herself there. Sid could hear the motor of her purr from here.

Finally the bear settled down right in front of Sid, dropped his head on a long sigh, and then Sid found himself with a lapful of bear.

Once, in vet school, Sid had treated a Tibetan mastiff, a dog so big and so fluffy that even crouching in front of her Sid hadn’t believed she was real. This was like that. Very carefully, Sid brought his hand to rest on the bear’s head. His fur was coarse, and warm, and he snuffled against Sid’s thigh. Just as carefully, Sid scritched lightly along his cheek. The bear mumbled again and scooted closer. His head must’ve weighed fifty pounds. Sid’s legs were going numb.

Dixi began grooming behind the bear’s ears, and the bear closed his eyes with a little hum. In a flash of feeling, Sid knew he would do anything for Geno, in both of his aspects, if it meant Geno could always feel this safe.

Geno’s bear shivered. Dixi chirped and hopped to the floor. Before Sid really registered what was happening, the bear’s shivers turned to shudders, and with a long whine he shifted back into his human self. He was still kneeling at Sid’s feet, head burrowed in his lap.

Sid, whose brain was still processing what he’d just witnessed — what he’d felt, underneath his hands — found himself with his fingers in Geno’s hair. He pulled them away.

Geno snuggled in, still emanating his shifter scent, and Sid suddenly knew he had about five seconds to separate himself from Geno before things became embarrassing. He cleared his throat.

Geno sat up, blinking muzzily up at Sid. Sid resolutely looked at Geno’s face, but even that was almost too much. Geno’s cheeks were flushed, his pupils blown, and his smile was sleepy in a way that really didn’t help Sid keep his thoughts on appropriate topics. He swallowed.

What he wanted was to thread his fingers back through Geno’s hair. He wanted to press his thumb against Geno’s mouth, he wanted —

He eased to his feet, and walked back over to the counter. Behind him, Geno began tugging his clothes back on, fabric rustling. Sid took a breath, let it out. “Hungry now?”

Geno stepped behind him. Sid felt a hand on his back and made himself look up.

Geno’s gaze was intense. “Yes,” he said softly. “Very hungry.”

Sid stared for a second. Then he snorted, and began opening the rest of the containers. “What a line,” he said. “You practice that in the mirror?”

Geno poked his tongue between his teeth. “It work?”

“Hand me some plates,” Sid said instead. “This needs microwaved.”

 

.

 

Later, after the few leftovers remaining had been stowed in the fridge and most of the dishes stacked by the sink, Sid contemplated stealing another piece of cake from Geno’s plate. Geno had merely squawked when he’d stolen the first one, and Sid was too full for an entire second dessert.

Geno set down his fork. Sid sat back.

“What you think of bear, Sid?” Geno didn’t quite meet Sid’s eye, and Sid remembered how, at their first meeting two months ago, shame had seemed to billow around him like so much smog.

“I’m honored your bear wanted to meet me,” he said, after thinking for a moment. “I know several shifters, and I know of quite a few more, but only my best friend has told me his animal aspect wanted to meet me before.”

He thought of Geno’s bear self, his massive presence in front of Sid, inquisitive and gentle and awesome all at once, and he thought about how Geno had cautioned him the last time Sid visited, that he might not be safe.

“Honestly? You’re bear’s magnificent. Sorry I keep smiling —” Sid rubbed a hand over his mouth “—I know this is serious, it’s just.” He met Geno’s eyes. “I keep thinking about it, like what you showed me, and it just makes me so happy?”

Geno stared at him. Sid tried to school his features to reflect the gravity of this conversation, but he felt too-full and buoyant and it was impossible to shutter that all inside of him. When he was home, maybe, he would consider what it meant that his reaction to Geno’s intimacy and trust was sheer joy, but for the moment he was in it and having trouble thinking at all.

So he shrugged helplessly, feeling like he was leaking laughter. “I just. I just like you a lot, G.”

Geno watched him for another moment, and then surged to his feet. He reached for Sid, dragged him up too. Sid had two heartbeats to be startled before Geno wrapped himself around Sid so tightly that Sid actually felt breathless.

“Like you a lot too, Sid,” he whispered. “Like you so much.” His mouth was at Sid’s ear, words tumbling out like each was a gift and a confession. “Feel so much, so big, you smile, think I’m gonna die, but happy you know? Bear want to meet, can’t believe, it’s like bear _ask_. Never happen before.”

Sid ran his hands up and down Geno’s back, reassuring and anchoring at once. He managed to turn his head and press his lips against Geno’s neck, to his pulse there. “I’d like to kiss you,” he murmured, “if you’d like that too.” He felt Geno shiver, and took that as permission to mouth at him a little.

Geno shivered again and pulled back. His gaze was heavy and focused in a way that warmed Sid all the way through. “Like that very much, Sid,” he said.

Sid smiled, delighting in how Geno smiled back at him. It wasn’t that Sid had never laughed with a partner before, but this was the first time his desire had been so entwined with his happiness. Sid didn’t think he could stop smiling if he tried, and he wasn’t interested in trying anymore.

So, mouth still bowed, Sid leaned upward and kissed Geno. Geno grunted, a tiny noise Sid immediately wanted to hear again. He pressed closer and kissed him some more, gentle getting-to-know-you kisses punctuated with indrawn breaths and hands framing faces. Geno’s mouth was generous against Sid’s, soft and full — and sweet, he discovered when he pulled back enough to lick his own lips.

“Taste like cake,” Geno murmured. He rubbed a thumb gently over Sid’s bottom lip, eyes dark.

“Better than lamb, eh?” Sid was glad he’d gotten three desserts to go with their dinner.

Geno wrapped an arm around Sid’s waist. “Eh,” he shrugged. “We both eat same things. Still wanna kiss you even after lamb.”

They came together again, kissed in the over-bright kitchen as minutes slid by and Sid discovered how soft Geno’s hair was and Geno grumbled about how many layers Sid was wearing.

“Too much clothes Sid, why you need all this?” Geno gave up trying to untuck Sid’s undershirt and reached down to grope his ass instead.

“It’s cold outside!” Sid began kissing Geno’s neck — it was easier to reach.

“Not be cold for long,” Geno muttered. He leaned back. “Okay time for change location.”

It took Sid a moment to focus on Geno’s words.

Geno threaded his fingers through Sid’s. “Tired of standing,” he said. “Want you on me, okay?”

“Ah,” Sid said intelligently. “Yup, sounds great to me, let’s go.”

Geno tugged him out of the kitchen and down a hall off the foyer — the same direction, Sid noted, that Geno had always gone when he had to shift. Geno paused to glance at Sid before pushing open a door at the end of the hall, and led them both inside.

“Think maybe used to be study,” Geno said, walking in, “but I don’t need that, so it’s my room instead. Have real bedroom upstairs, but lately stairs is too hard.” He took a shuffling step away from Sid, a little unsure now.

A lamp in the corner illuminated the room, showing a lot of dark wood and tall windows, and a massive fireplace against the far wall. The floor was strewn with carpets and cushions, a riot of colors and textures that looked pretty inviting, honestly. It all smelled like woodsmoke and loam, of secret places deep in forests Sid had never seen, and, somehow, also like the lakes and woods of his old home.

Sid touched Geno’s hand. “It’s perfect,” he said. “It feels like you. Wanna make out now?”

Geno’s grin was crooked. “You want to?”

Sid walked a few more steps into the room, padding around blankets and pillows, and sank down on a particularly plush looking rug. Geno, he saw, had left the door open a good few inches. They watched each other for a moment.

“Well?” Sid said. He pulled off his sweater, and his teeshirt too, and tossed them aside. “Coming?”

“Sure hope so, Sid.” He hauled off his hoodie and strode forward.

Sid opened his arms with a laugh.

When he remembered this later, he’d think about his previous partners and lovers and the one- or two-week flings he’d stumbled through in school. And he’d think about how kissing them, each of them and collectively too, had been nice. It’d just been really nice. An undeniably pleasant way to spend a few minutes or a few hours, whether or not it led to anything more.

He’d think about it, turning each moment over and over in his head, wondering at how his memories of all of his previous encounters, and what he’d felt with Geno, seemed so radically different.

Now he was too busy _feeling_ to even attempt to distill any of it into coherent thought, let alone understanding.

“You like this, don’t you?” Sid had Geno on his back, arms over his head, and was busy finding out just how beautifully Geno reacted to having his nipples sucked. Sid sprawled across Geno’s torso, felt him rutting slowly against Sid’s belly, and applied himself to Geno’s other nipple.

“So much, Sid,” Geno panted. “Could come like this.”

Sid immediately moved away, and grinned as Geno growled. “Not yet,” Sid said. “You have condoms down here?”

Geno shook his head, growling with a different kind of frustration this time, and tried sitting up. Sid pushed him back down.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. Geno peered up at him, looking petulant, so Sid leaned down and kissed him again, softly. He grumbled a little under Sid’s mouth, and threaded his fingers through Sid’s hair and kissed him harder.

“Easy,” Sid murmured.

Geno tightened his hold on Sid’s hair. “Don’t want easy Sid, want you to fuck me.”

Sid pressed his forehead to Geno’s. “I mean,” he panted, “same, but.” He considered. “How about lube?”

This time when Geno sat up Sid let him. Geno crawled across the cushions to the table with the lamp and opened a drawer. Sid leaned back and appreciated the view.

Geno paused at the door on his return trip. Dixi poked her head in with a chirp. Sid wondered how Dixi would handle being left out of all of this — or would Geno insist on letting her wander as she liked? But Geno scooped her up and rubbed his chin against her forehead, murmuring something too softly for Sid to hear, before setting her down again outside the doorway.

“Mind if I close?”

Sid shook his head.

Geno crawled back to him, a bottle in his hand. “I’m tell her we fine,” he said, laying down next to Sid. “And I’m tell her I love her very much but this no place for Dixis.” He set the bottle on a nearby cushion. “Kiss again?”

“Yeah,” Sid breathed.

They were slower now, a little less urgent, and Sid noticed the heat of Geno’s skin against his, how the hairs on his chest tickled and how the rugs and blankets under them shifted and gave with their combined weight. Sid let himself get lost, in trading long, lazy kisses and soft murmurs, curling into one another as their breaths became ragged.

“Wanna take these off?” Sid rubbed along the waistband of Geno’s sweats.

“I’m do if you do,” Geno said, kissing under Sid’s ear. So they rolled away from each other, and if Geno looked smug at how quickly he shucked his pants while Sid struggled out of his jeans, he was openly staring by the time Sid tossed them across the room.

“You have tummy,” Geno whispered.

Sid ran a hand down his belly, a little self-conscious. He worked out as often as his schedule allowed, which lately looked like about once a week, and while he thought he was in pretty good shape he still had that wintertime paunch. Naked, there was no hiding it anymore.

“No, no,” Geno said, leaning over and feathering his hands along Sid’s hip and down his thighs. Sid’s dick, which had started to flag, jumped again. “No Sid I’m love, look so soft, want to just...”

Geno pressed the gentlest of kisses just below Sid’s belly button, which was both far too close and not nearly close enough to where Sid really needed Geno to be. He groaned and tugged at Geno’s hair. “Glad you, uh, like it,” he managed. “But maybe, you know, instead —”

Geno looked up, mischievous even with Sid’s hand in his hair. “Oh,” he said, nonchalant. “You think tummy not best place for attention? Maybe knees instead? Maybe arm?”

“Fuck you,” Sid spluttered, laughing now. “Come here.” He tugged at Geno again, and this time Geno stretched out, tucking himself against Sid’s side and kissing Sid’s grin.

“But no really,” Sid said a few minutes later. Geno’s dick was bumping Sid’s thigh, and Sid’s own was getting difficult to ignore. He bit at Geno’s chin. “What do you want? Do you wanna come?” He opened his eyes, stared at Geno’s lashes laying against his cheek. “If not it’s okay.”

Geno hitched himself against Sid, wiggling until he slotted his dick between Sid’s thighs. Sid hissed.

“Want you to come on me,” Geno murmured. He moved again, disengaging to roll on his back. In the process he’d retrieved the bottle of lube. He set it on his chest and pulled his arms over his head.

And Sid had thought his dick was impossible to ignore before. “That sounds...” Sid sat up and straddled Geno’s thighs, completely taken. “That sounds great,” he managed. “Do you want to come first?”

Geno shook his head. He pinked, and said shyly, “Want to deserve?”

“ _Oh_ ,” Sid said. “Yeah, okay, I can. We can. Definitely, Geno.” It’d be a miracle if Sid lasted five minutes, honestly. Dynamics play was important to some folks, and he’d had fun with it before, but it was possible that Geno, with his silly grins and quiet trust, would be Sid’s undoing.

“Just, ah.” He ran his hands up and down Geno’s torso, utterly unable to help himself. Geno shivered and squirmed. “You gotta talk to me, eh? If there’s something you don’t like, let me know and we’ll try something different.”

Geno was already looking pretty blissed out. “Sound good, Sid,” he murmured, eyes half-closed. “Don’t have to do much, just want to, you know, come for you.”

He would definitely be Sid’s undoing. “Is it comfortable keeping your arms up like that?” he asked. The sight was frankly incredible, but on a floor covered in rugs and pillows there was nowhere to attach a restraint, even if Sid had had one.

Geno nodded.

He reached and tugged a blanket into Geno’s fists. “Hold onto that for me, okay? As long as it’s comfortable, hold onto that and keep your arms there.”

Geno hummed and gripped the blanket with both hands.

“Good,” Sid said. “God, you look so good.” He scraped his nails lightly down Geno’s chest, and Geno arched and groaned and kept his hands firmly bound up in the blanket over his head. “God,” Sid said again.

If he’d had time to plan something, or if he’d known Geno better, Sid might’ve felt a little more confident pushing, and seeing how much they both could take. As it was, likely neither of them would last much longer. That was okay. If they did this again — Sid hoped they would do this again — maybe they could negotiate some more beforehand. For now, Geno watched Sid with a small smile and steady gaze that did more for Sid than probably the most well-planned scene ever could. He leaned down and licked Geno’s nipple.

“Yes,” Geno hissed. “Not kidding though,” he added as Sid began to nibble him. “Might come from this, Sid.”

“You won’t,” Sid said. He stroked his own dick, lightly, just enough to give himself a little relief, and shifted so Geno could watch him. Sid smiled when Geno groaned. He worked his way over to the delicate skin under Geno’s arm, laying a trail of feather-light kisses that had Geno writhing. “You’re doing so good,” he whispered as he moved back down Geno’s chest. Then Sid sucked his other nipple, hard.

“Sid!”

Sid sat up. Geno still held the blanket fast above his head. His flush extended most of the way down his torso now, his chest heaving and his mouth wide open.

“You match,” Sid murmured. He touched each of Geno’s nipples, then pressed his fingers lightly to Geno’s lips, and then, in the barest of touches, to the head of his dick.

“Not yet!” Geno shouted.

“You can do it.” Sid moved so he could reach Geno’s mouth better, and with his other hand uncapped the bottle of lube and squirted a generous amount on Geno’s belly. “You don’t mind, do you?” Sid asked as Geno gasped. He rubbed his fingers in it and gripped his own dick.

“Nope, is just fine, whatever you like Sid I’m sure is best —”

“Easy,” Sid said. He pressed two fingers of his clean hand into Geno’s mouth. “Suck me, will you? I want to come.”

Geno moaned around Sid’s fingers and proceeded to do a fantastic job of making Sid regret their lack of condoms. Sid stroked himself hard and fast, caught in the feel of Geno’s mouth and the weight of his gaze, until his orgasm slammed into him like a freight train.

“God,” Sid panted. He gently pulled his fingers from Geno’s mouth, rubbed them in the come now striping his torso. “You did so good, G, that was incredible.” He traced the pre-come dotting Geno’s belly and swallowed. “Do you — do you want me to ... Or do you...?” Coherent thought was not Sid’s strong suit in moments like these, but he really needed to know.

“You do, please,” Geno whispered.

“Sounds great. Your arms still okay?”

“Yep.” Geno’s voice was very soft.

“You’re so good,” Sid said again, beginning to stroke Geno’s dick, getting a feel for it in his hand, watching Geno’s face closely. “You’re doing so good.” Geno twisted and whined under Sid. Sid obliged him by stroking harder. “Come whenever you’re ready, you deserve it.”

“Touch my ass?” Geno said, words coming in pants.

“Definitely, you got it.” The angle was a little tricky, but Sid reached with his other hand, had barely pressed a finger against Geno’s hole when Geno came with a shout, arching off the floor. Sid stroked him through it, murmuring reassurances, until Geno whined and turned his head away.

“I got you,” Sid said, reaching for the blanket Geno still held and slowly lowering his arms. “How do you feel? Any tingling or anything?”

“Feel okay, Sid,” Geno slurred. He had the goofiest grin on his face. Sid paused to bend down and kiss him, before massaging Geno’s shoulders and biceps and forearms. His fingers, Sid was pleased to note, were still warm.

“Do you have any water in here?” The mess on Geno’s belly was already getting tacky.

Geno waved vaguely in the direction of a bookshelf across the room. There was a case of water on one of the lower shelves. Sid retrieved two — one to wet a corner of the blanket and clean them both up, and another for Geno.

Finally, somewhat clean and relatively rehydrated, Sid snuggled down again into the cushions and rugs. Geno rolled enough to drape himself over Sid with a murmured, “Best,” tucking his nose against Sid’s neck. “Love so much, Sid.”

Sid kissed Geno’s forehead as his heart turned over in his chest. “Me too,” he replied softly.

 

.

 

“You okay?” Sid murmured some time later, after they’d both dozed and rolled and found another blanket to tuck themselves under. “You’ve been human for a few hours now.”

Geno ran his hand up and down Sid’s back. Sid shivered pleasantly in response.

“Feel okay,” he said slowly. “More than okay obviously,” and here he kissed Sid’s head. “But, not feel need to be bear? Spent a lot of time already as bear today, knowing you coming, so maybe that’s it. S’nice.”

“Oh,” Sid said, pleased. “Well, good. Let me know if that changes, eh?”

“For sure, Sid,” Geno replied, already dozing off again.

 

.

 

Sid jerked awake much, much later to Geno punching his arm.

“Gotta go, Sid,” he rasped. “So sorry, so so sorry, gotta get out of here fast.”

“What?” Sid was pretty good at waking up quickly, even at 4am or whatever time it was now, but he was having trouble understanding what Geno was saying. “Want me out of the room?”

“Need to get out of _house_ ,” Geno choked. “Something wrong, something really bad, think curse —”

He screamed.

Sid flung himself toward Geno, reaching to hold and comfort. Geno shoved him back and rolled away.

“I can’t leave you like this!” Even as he spoke, Sid inhaled. The comforting scents of loam and woodsmoke were gone, overwhelmed by that sour, foul smell of the curse, reeking like stagnant gutter water or old roadkill. Sid sneezed, then sneezed again.

“Yes you can,” Geno growled. He’d curled in on himself, head on his knees and fingernails digging into his arms. “Must. Must leave, Sid." Sweat was breaking out on Geno's face. His voice was already lower. Sid rose to his feet, and stopped. He couldn't _leave_. Who would he be if he left Geno like this?

"Sid," Geno pleaded, "this not me. Is not bear. I can handle, maybe yes, but you cannot.” He shuddered and gripped himself tighter. “Please text when you get home safe, okay?" He groaned through another spasm. "Gotta leave so you can be safe, I gotta know you're safe, Sid, promise I'm text you when I'm safe too.”

From the hall outside Dixi yowled. There was a thump, like she’d flung herself against the door.

Geno followed Sid’s gaze. “She be okay,” he managed. “She small, can hide if need to. You can’t. Please leave, Sid, please.”

Still Sid paused. Later, he would remember this as the moment his heart broke in two. He would hear Geno’s repeated pleas in his head on the long, dark drive back to the city, as Sid texted him — _Made it. <3_ — and as he let himself cry in a too-hot shower. He replayed, over and over, the sight of Dixi hurtling into the room and licking Geno’s face — because Geno was crying, crying as he shouted at Sid to get out. When he realized he wasn’t getting any sleep tonight, Sid walked down to the Liberty Bridge in the frigid pre-dawn air and stood there until the sun came up.

But all he said at the time, standing in Geno’s room with his clothes in his hands, as Geno shuddered and wept before him, was, “You had better fucking text me.”

 

.

 

Geno didn’t text. Days went by, one grey late winter day sliding into the next, until a week had passed with no word. _Hey G you okay?_ Sid sent finally, late one evening after day made longer by his weariness and worry.

When morning came with no reply, Sid told himself he wasn’t concerned.

But of course that was a lie. Sid focused as best he could on the work, and tried — and failed — to not worry. Everyone at Three Rivers assumed he was going through some kind of nasty breakup, and Sid let them think it until Kris cornered him one morning and offered to beat up the guy. Sid almost broke down right there in triage. In the shocked silence that followed Sid managed to collect himself enough to explain.

“He’s sick.” It wasn’t even a lie. “It might be terminal. I haven’t heard from him.”

The pity that followed this was almost worse than his staff being angry on his behalf, but at least no one asked him why he looked exhausted anymore. They all stepped up, taking on more than their fair share of appointments, and Sid noticed his own clients shifted very suddenly to the small, cute, and fluffy variety. Sid responded by quietly buying everyone donuts, and then pizza.

He emailed Flower, a long, rambling, disorganized stream of consciousness letter written when he should’ve been sleeping. It was a relief to write out all the things he’d barely let himself think about. It was a relief to tell someone.

Flower replied with an offer to catch the next plane to Pittsburgh. Sid let himself cry over that, quietly, for a few minutes in the pre-dawn gloom of his apartment. They both knew Flower couldn’t afford to take the time off, and they both knew that he would, if Sid asked. The offer was enough.

Finally, after three weeks of silence, Sid took his day off to drive up to Sewickley Heights. His grief had settled, a little. He wondered idly if he should be angry now. He supposed, given the opportunity, he could become well and truly angry — but not at Geno. Never at Geno.

Sid hoped for their own sakes he never met the people who’d cursed Geno.

There were daffodils blooming around Geno’s gate. It wasn’t open. He pressed the buzzer, pressed it again when no one answered, and then, after a few minutes, got out of the car.

Another car was parked behind Geno’s Mercedes. A shiny, generic sedan, with a little white sticker on the driver’s side window. A rental, then. Geno’s friends? The ones who’d cursed him? The wind was at his back. Sid couldn’t tell who they were.

For an instant Sid contemplated getting back in his car and leaving. It was a coward’s way out and he dismissed it almost immediately, but sometimes not knowing was easier to handle. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he’d come here only to learn that Geno was dead. In not knowing, he could still hope.

But the front door opened, and a short woman with fluffy brown hair peered out, across the drive and up the lawn, at him.

Sid didn’t have a lot of personal experience with cursethrowers but this woman now stalking down the driveway towards him seemed very capable of making curses stick true. The moment to flee was past. Sid shut his car’s door and squared up to meet her.

“You.” She hurled the word at him in a very familiar accent. In fact, if he ignored her height, there was a lot about her that looked familiar.

“You break my son,” she cried. A single finger now joined her voice in accusation.

Sid felt his jaw drop. He closed it with a click. Then her words registered. “I love your son,” he said before he could stop himself. “I’m here because I haven’t heard from him, not for weeks, and I’m worried.”

She glared at him through the gate, close enough now that Sid could see the fear underpinning her anger. She was here, when Geno had suggested that such a thing was impossible. She was here, and she was furious and terrified.

“What happened?” Sid forced himself to speak calmly, through his own growing fears. “I know he’s not — that he’s not okay. I care about him a lot. An awful lot. Is there anything I can do?”

She stared at him for a long time, long enough for the wind to shift, finally. Long enough for Sid to realize she smelled like her son’s house. She’d been here for several days, then, at least. Sid swallowed.

“I see you have the truth,” she said at last, in a voice that was quieter and still as firm as before. “Tell truth,” she amended. She came a few steps closer to the gate. Sid remained where he was.

“I can see when someone say lies, truth,” she continued, “so I give truth back to you. Curse fight him. He fight curse. Say it start when he meet you. I’m think, I hate this man who make my boy cry and hurt.”

She glared again, and Sid felt gut-punched. He opened his mouth to say — something, he wasn’t sure what, but surely something, and she cut him off.

“I see now you are not that man. Ones who curse him, I kill.” Sid didn’t doubt her. “We not know how is curse break, or if Zhenya is strong enough, and I’m so worry.” Her eyes were shining now. Sid’s throat tightened, and he swallowed again.

“You cannot come in,” she said, sounding genuinely sorry. “He look — well. Very bad.”

Sid remembered how Geno had looked sprawled across his kitchen floor several months ago, too thin and too weak and too exhausted to send Sid away. Sid was pretty sure he could handle however Geno looked now, but he also believed Geno’s mother. He wouldn’t want to be seen at his worst, either.

“But I’m tell him you come, okay?” She tried a smile. It wasn’t much, as far as smiles went, but her eyes bowed the same way her son’s did. The resemblance, in this moment, was devastating.

“Tell him to keep fighting,” Sid said, voice hoarse. “Tell him I’m waiting. No matter what happens, I’ll be here.”

Now she dabbed at her eyes, tears finally spilling over. “Yes,” she said. “Okay. I’m tell him this.”

And then she turned around, and walked back up the drive. Sid watched until she reached the door, but she didn’t look back.

 

.

 

It was the first Caturday in June, and the weather could not have been better. Sid was relieved — he knew how much work the organizers had put into these events and how much they depended on sunny days. The corner of Schenley Park they’d staked out for the gathering contained a pavilion and a collection of little tents, but no one wanted to bring their cat out in the rain. The fact that Three Rivers Animal was one of the groups tabling here, passing out information on the hospital and their low-cost spay/neuter and vaccine programs, only contributed to his relief about the weather.

This Caturday seemed pretty well attended, as far as Sid could see from his spot next to Jake. They’d set up their tent between two animal rescue organizations, one of whom had big crates full of adoptable kittens, so maybe Sid’s perspective was a little skewed. There were a lot of people, though. And, of course, a lot of cats. Sid saw cats on harnesses, cats in strollers, cats draped artfully across their peoples’ shoulders. He grinned at the cats who seemed to be having a decent time, and winced as he watched some caretakers find out the hard way that their kitties just didn’t like other cats very much. The organizers flitted about, monitoring interactions and directing people to watering stations or quiet areas if necessary.

At some point Jake drifted to the neighboring tent. Sid glanced over to see him sitting in an ex-pen, three kittens scampering all over him. He grinned helplessly up at Sid.

“Stay strong, Jake!” he called.

One of the kittens made its way up to Jake’s head. Jake couldn’t grab for it, though, because the other two were crawling up his arms. “No one’s strong enough for kittens,” he replied, actually giggling now.

Sid shook his head.

The breeze picked up, a welcome relief under the stuffiness of the tents, and Sid sniffed at it out of habit. He smelled Jake’s shampoo, the kittens and their litter boxes, the other humans nearby with their usual array of scents — deodorants and sunscreens and sweat and food. Sid picked out a few Others in the crowds, and that was pretty typical, too. These were his people. This was his city. Nothing unusual here today.

Then, twining around everything that was normal and typical and ordinary, Sid caught something he thought he’d never smell again. He turned around, heart pounding, and sniffed again.

“Jake,” he said, still facing into the wind. “Watch the table for a bit, eh? I’m — I’ll be back.”

“Sure thing, Captain,” Jake said, behind him, presumably still dangling kittens. Sid set off through the crowd.

There weren’t _that_ many people here, but it suddenly seemed like every one of them was in his way. “Sorry,” he murmured, dodging around children and strollers and cats on leashes. “Sorry, oop, sorry!”

The breeze kept shifting. He knew what he’d smelled, he didn’t think he’d imagined it —

“Sid!”

Sid turned, looked, looked —

There, sitting on a blanket under a tree and waving both his arms, was Geno. Dixi lounged beside him in a smart pink harness.

Sid broke into a run.

Geno pushed to his feet, Dixi’s leash looped around his wrist, and waited for Sid. It took him ten strides, twelve, to reach Geno. He pulled up a few feet away, panting.

“You’re here,” he said. _You’re alive_ , he thought. Geno looked — not well, he was still far too thin and too pale to pass for healthy, but there was a vitality about him that Sid wasn’t sure he’d seen before.

Dixi roused herself enough to begin playing with Sid’s shoe laces. They both watched her. Sid wasn’t sure what came next. Geno shifted from foot to foot, and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Still not very strong,” he said. “Mama and Papa drive us here. They, ah, take walk.”

“Did you break it?”

“Yes,” Geno said, on a sigh, like a convalescent finally on the other side of a long illness. Sid supposed that was pretty accurate. “So hard. Hardest thing I’m ever done, but you help so much, Sid.”

“ _I_ helped?” Sid stepped closer. The sour-off scent was gone, he realized. Completely gone.

“Curse laid by friends who not real friends,” Geno said. He twisted Dixi’s leash in his hands, over and over. “Maybe have no idea what it mean to be real friend. But Papa thinks curses all have their own rules. Friends curse me to lonely, sad, slow death. You come, show kind, care, um, love.” Geno was blushing now. Sid reached out and touched his hand very gently.

“Love,” he said again, more firmly. “And, you know, anger too, and worry. Not just once, but again and again. To you I’m not just this sad, lonely, cursed. I’m ...”

“You’re you,” Sid murmured. It was impossible to see Geno as only the thing that had been done to him. That experience was a part of him, but it wasn’t Geno.

“Yes,” Geno said. “And every time you show this, show you believe it, see all of me and not just sad lonely part, curse gets a little weaker. After, um, that night,” and here Geno took Sid’s hand, trembling. “It’s like, try to fight, hold on to control of me, but it’s also first time I can actually fight back. That’s why I’m tell you leave, because if I lose, worried curse kill you.”

Sid stepped even closer, into the space where Geno’s warmth radiated off of him. He smelled like winter nights and summer mornings. Geno carefully set his hands around Sid’s waist.

“I call Mamma and Papa,” he continued, softer now, “because I’m not sure I’m gonna make it, and they not sure either. Pretty scary time. Mamma so mad at you,” he added with a crooked grin. “Sure it’s your fault, and maybe it was, but not the way she thought. Then, you visit?”

Sid realized Geno had asked a question. “Yeah,” he said, watching the corner of Geno’s smile. “That was ... That was a day.”

Geno gazed down at him for several breaths. “Finally beat it that night,” he said. “Was so tired, never been so tired oh my god. Take me two weeks to try change, because was tired and also kind of scared, you know? Like, what if curse not really broken?”

“But you did it?”

Geno’s smile was like a sunrise. “I did it. All my choice. Felt so good, Sid. Felt like I’m me again.”

“I’m so glad,” Sid said, meaning it.

Geno gazed at him again, then stepped back. “We sit, maybe? Okay? Standing still hard.”

“Oh, for sure.”

Geno sat back against the tree with a sigh. Sid followed, leaning close. The moment he situated himself on the blanket, however, Dixi sidled her way onto his lap, front paws on his chest, purring like she was filled with bees. He scritched under her harness and she butted her head on his chin.

“Nice to see you too, sweetheart.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket. With a murmured apology, Sid sent a quick text to Jake. _Gonna be more than a few minutes probably, sorry._ He added his rough location in the park — really, only like a hundred yards away from the collection of tents — and told Jake to text if he needed help.

 _Aye aye captain_ , Jake replied, and added a winking face and the eyeballs emoji. Maybe his politeness was finally wearing off. Sid looked over at Geno, still grinning.

But Geno wasn’t looking at Sid. “Sorry for not email, text,” he said. “Feel bad for weeks about this. No excuse, I’m know, but ...”

He dropped his gaze to Dixi, stroked one careful finger down her back. “Not sure what’s happening at first, you know? Think maybe curse will either kill me or not, but either way, over soon. Then time pass and I’m barely know where I am, but Mama say you visit, and then I’m feel, you know, so bad. Promised I’d let you know, and didn’t. Not sure what to say by then, so don’t say anything. I’m sorry, Sid.”

“Hey,” Sid whispered. He nudged Geno’s shoulder. “Hey, G.” When Geno finally looked at him, eyes wet, Sid wrapped an arm around Geno’s waist and tugged him closer. Dixi proceeded to drape herself across both of their laps and kneaded at Geno’s thigh.

“I’m not gonna lie, I was really worried,” Sid said. Geno looked away again. “I knew you were hurting, maybe really hurting, and I had no way to reach you.” He thought of Geno’s mother meeting him like a lion at the gate. “It was actually a relief to know your parents had come, because then I knew at least you weren’t alone. Your mom’s pretty fierce, isn’t she?”

It earned him the smile he’d been aiming for, a little watery but undeniably there. “Yeah,” Geno admitted, glancing at Sid. “She fierce for sure.”

“I worried less, knowing she and your dad were there with you. I think that was when I knew you’d be okay.”

“Still didn’t text...”

“Okay,” Sid said, because maybe Geno really needed this acknowledged. “I wish you had, but I accept your apology. Thank you.”

“Welcome,” Geno mumbled. He leaned into Sid. Sid hadn’t realized he was still bracing himself until that moment, when Geno finally relaxed. Something inside Sid that had been coiled and tense for weeks finally released. He felt like weeping.

He leaned up to kiss Geno’s cheek instead. “I missed you so much,” he said softly.

“Miss you too, Sid.” Geno pressed his face into Sid’s hair. “Not plan to do that again don’t worry.”

Sid huffed out a laugh. “I’ll be here,” he said. “I think I’d like to always be here, for you.”

Geno made a little noise. “Want same, Sid,” he whispered. “Want to be with you, here, always.”

Before Sid could do anything about this declaration, like maybe fling himself into Geno’s arms, Dixi roused herself with several loud chirps and trotted to the end of her leash. Strolling down the path, hand in hand, was an older couple. One of them was much shorter than the other. Both of them were smiling.

Geno tugged at Sid’s hand. “Come meet parents, Sid. Now Mamma don’t want to kill you, welcome to family!” 

Sid got up with a laugh, and the three of them walked out into the sunshine, together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it, leave a comment! Comments make me happy :D
> 
> A few quick notes:  
> \- I borrowed the term "Others" from Robin McKinley's novel _Sunshine_  
>  \- Sid's practice is based in part on PGH Mobile Vet, who afaik are not affiliated with any other clinic  
> \- Ethanol (such as vodka) really does neutralize antifreeze in the blood  
> \- Kavsar, the Uzbek/Russian restaurant, is real, and their lamb plov is pretty amazing  
> \- Avets, the 24-hour emergency animal hospital in Monroeville, is also real  
> \- Caturdays in Schenley Park are, alas, somewhat made up. There was one in 2017, but as far as I could find, none have happened since


End file.
